a constant amidst a whirlwind of change
by JacksonFrost
Summary: For Draco, the War didn't end discrimination. It caused it. D/A.


**Author's Note: **This is for a competition in the HPFFC forum...the prompt was discrimination in the Wizarding World. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think!

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**a constant amidst a whirlwind of change**

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For a brief time, the world was in flames and Draco was drowning in them, consumed by the chaos of war and the evil surrounding him.

Now, everything has changed, and he's as lost as ever. His father is in Azkaban, jailed for fighting on the wrong side of the war. His mother seems lost without Lucius, without her sister, without her former place in society.

By all rights, he should be in Azkaban with his father, he was a Death Eater. He fought. He killed.

But there was mercy for him. Harry spared him his freedom. And Draco thinks it is just one more thing to add to the list of why Harry Potter is a better man than he could ever hope of being.

And everyone else knows this list, front and back, and Draco faces the daily judgmental scowls and disgusted looks of hatred with his familiar aristocratic, haughty sneers.

He pretends that he doesn't care, that he still enjoys being the person he was before the war. He pretends that person doesn't make him recoil in disgust.

It's easier than he'd have thought.

--

"Draco, so nice to see you again," Daphne gushes, her eyes glinting with a thirst for gossip. "I heard about your father, I am terribly sorry. How's your mother holding up?"

"Fine," Draco answers curtly. He looks at Pansy, who is sniggering besides Daphne, and quickly looks away, revolted. If it wasn't for his mother, he wouldn't be at this bloody society ball, talking to these horrible pure-blood twats who search for a shred of weakness and would immediately pounce if they found one.

The girl on the other side of Daphne makes an impatient noise, and Daphne rolls her eyes. "Draco, this is my younger sister. Astoria. She's a year younger than us."

Astoria smiles brightly. "How do you do?"

Draco nods. "Nice to meet you," he drawls.

A new song starts, and Draco notices Pansy's eyes lighting up. He quickly turns to Astoria. "Would you like to dance?"

Pansy looks crestfallen, and Daphne is gaping unattractively. Astoria laughs, her green eyes sparkling. "I'd love to."

--

Once the band begins to wind down, and the number of pureblood elite begins to dwindle, Draco returns home.

His mother is waiting for him expectantly. "Well? How was it?"

"Awful as expected," Draco snaps. "But I made polite small-talk, and danced with the Greengrass girl a few times."

Narcissa's gaze sharpens. "Daphne?"

"No, the younger one," Draco says, unwilling thoughts of the smallness of her hands, or the brightness of her smile, or the redness of her lips overflowing his mind. "Astoria."

Narcissa nods, pleased. "She'll be a seventh year, then. I doubt she has a marriage offer already. Draco, the Greengrasses are a good family."

"So are the Malfoys," Draco spits out, outraged. "So are the Blacks."

"The Malfoy name is smeared by our association with the Death Eaters," Narcissa says, only a flicker of pain in her eyes belying her harsh tone. "And the Black family is obsolete, not to mention hated by everyone." She puts a hand over her eyes. "Draco, we need this marriage."

"I thought things were supposed to be different now," Draco says sullenly.

"They are different," Narcissa snaps. "If you haven't noticed, Draco, we're living in a shamble of our former life. I'd imagine that ball you went to was a sad imitation of what used to be."

Draco shrugs, thinking of the almost-pathetic attempts to make the cheap decorations as luxurious as expected. "It wasn't very grand," he admits. "Not like the ones we used to throw."

"Of course it wasn't," Narcissa says softly. "And you know why? We're not the upper-class any more, Draco."

"Mother..."

"No, listen to me," Narcissa interrupts, bitterness flooding her voice. "None of the purebloods are. This is a new era, a new regime. The Mudbloods and the half-bloods and their sympathizers reign over us, and that's the truth."

Draco eyes the half-empty wine glass in his mother's hand. "That's not true, Mother. You've just had a long day. It's been a long year, really. But we'll regain our place in society and-"

"No!" Narcissa cries. "We cannot, Draco. Do you know, I went to Hogsmeade the other day, and some common witches spat on me. They spat on me, Draco." She shakes her head in disbelief, tears pricking at her eyes. "They see us as the reason for the war. They blame us for _everything_. For their dead, for the rocky attempts of the Ministry to rebuild, for the rising cost of food and the lack of Galleons flowing in our economy…for everything, Draco. We're the scapegoats now."

"They spat on you?" Draco questions angrily. "How dare they. Do they even know who-"

"Yes, they know who I am," Narcissa interrupts irritably. "Have you not been listening? They hate me. They hate all of us, every single pureblooded witch or wizard who believes in the Proper Order of Things. We're not the elite anymore, _they_ are."

Draco shudders involuntarily. "Maybe there won't be an elite class. Things are supposed to be different, more equal now. Right?"

Narcissa laughs humourlessly. "There's always going to be an upper class, Draco. That'll never change. It's just the people in that class who change. It used to be us, now it's them. And I don't think that will change for some time." She looks at Draco sadly. "And this is why I need you to marry Astoria. The Greengrasses are Slytherin, and pureblooded, but they weren't aligned with the Dark Lord, and that might be what saves you."

"Mother," Draco says slowly. "If what you say is true, well, I was a Death Eater. I don't think I'll be accepted in society's good graces anytime soon."

Narcissa shakes her head. "No. It's too late for me, Draco, and for your father. But you, you were young; you had to protect your family. And Harry has forgiven you, that counts for everything in this new world. I don't want a life for you where you must protect yourself from the endless discrimination based on the sins of your father." She smiles wryly. "And mother, I suppose. So please, court Astoria. Make your way into society again."

Draco tries to speak, but he can't. Instead, he grips his mother's cold hand, and nods.

--

Astoria is not an easy girl to court. She isn't the docile, obedient girlfriend that Draco expected.

She believes in the new politically correct terms and corrects him constantly ("Draco, it's not _Mudblood _anymore. It's First Generation Wizard!"). She doesn't believe in gossip, and once ignored him for days because he made a snide remark about Pansy ("If you're going to talk behind her back, how do I know that you won't do the same for me?"). She stresses the importance of attending the society functions that Draco loathes, almost as much as his mother does, and she doesn't care if the functions are hosted by half-bloods or 'First Generation Wizards' ("Dear, if you want to regain your place in society, you need to make these appearances! And really, the pureblooded functions serve the opposite purpose; you're much better off going to Luna and Rolf's engagement party!").

He could walk away from her at any moment. He could chase after Daphne, or god-forbid Pansy. But there is something about the way Astoria throws back her head in laughter, unafraid and care-free, or the way she slips her hand into his when someone is grilling him about his family loyalties, or the way she looks at him with open trust and admiration in her eyes, instead of the guarded distrust and disgust that he is so used to.

He finds himself falling a little bit in love with her, and suddenly, her impossible standards don't seem so unachievable anymore.

--

Draco sees them coming, and wants to disappear. He doesn't, he promised Astoria that he would confront those who hated him, and show them that he wasn't the same boy he used to be.

He instantly regrets this decision when they've approached him, and he sees how drunk they are.

"Well, well, well," slurs Lee Jordan. "If it isn't lil' Draco. How nice to see him again, isn't that right, George?"

"Pleasure," George barks out, his face twisted in loathing. "Y'know, I bet you Fred would have wanted to see ya too."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Draco says stiffly, avoiding their eyes.

George lunges at him, snarling, and Lee clasps a restraining hand on his shoulder, leering at Draco. "Now, now, Georgie, not yet. Let's give Draco here a chance to explain himself. What was it, Draco? Imperio? Some Dark potion? Wha' wassit?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," Draco stutters, casting a nervous glance behind him. Nobody's around, it's just them. And somehow, he doesn't think it would matter if there was a crowd of witnesses. Draco fights a wave of nausea.

"Why were you a bloody Death Eater?" George growls impatiently.

"I- Well, my parents…the Dark Lord…he threatened them, he would have killed my parents and me, I had to protect them, I-"

"YOU'RE A COWARD," George shouts, his face darkening in rage. "My parents were in constant danger, and so were we, but I didn't become a Death Eater, _Fred_ didn't-"

Lee shakes his head. "Sorry Draco, not a good explanation." He smirks. "Think we'll have to teach him a lesson, George?"

George lunges at him again, and this time, Lee doesn't restrain him.

--

"Draco!" Astoria shrieks, running towards him. "What- what happened to you?"

Draco winces in pain. "D'you have any salve or something?"

"Yes, of course," Astoria says, gently pushing him towards the couch. "Sit, sit."

Draco obeys, and she bustles around him, dabbing salve on his cheek, stopping bleeding with a tap of her wand, and handing him a bloody slab of greenish meat. "Dragon liver," she explains briskly, noticing his look of horror. "For your eye."

"Thanks," Draco mutters, pressing it on his black eye.

"I'd do more," Astoria says, waving her wand aimlessly, "but I'm not a Healer, I don't want to do something wrong. We could go to St. Mungo's…"

"No," Draco says harshly.

"Well, what _happened_, Draco?" she says, close to tears. "You show up all bloody and beaten and you can't possibly expect to not explain, I-"

"Do you really want to know what happened, Astoria?" Draco explodes, throwing the dragon liver across the floor.

Astoria flinches, but nods. "Tell me."

"I was doing what you said," Draco snaps. "I wasn't running away, I was going to apologize, and they attacked me."

"Who?" Astoria asks softly.

"Lee Jordan and George Weasley," Draco mutters. "And a few years ago, I got in a fight with George and Harry, and I didn't even care. I _always_ came out on top, one way or another. And now they can just attack me, and not one person is going to do a single bloody thing about it. Even if I reported this, people would say, 'Well, it's Draco Malfoy, a former Death Eater, and it's understandable that George reacted like that, poor dear.'" He laughs humorlessly, clenching his fists in anger.

Astoria sits next to him and hesitantly takes his hand. "Draco, I know things have changed and that it's difficult for you."

"I'm not ready for these changes. I don't want to be the one the whole world hates," Draco whispers, suddenly vulnerable.

Astoria kisses his hand. "I know."

"I'm not brave, Astoria. I'm bloody terrified."

Astoria grins at him. "And that's why you have me. We'll face the changes together."

"I love you," Draco says simply. He's never said those words before, he didn't think he even could, but with Astoria, they feel right.

Astoria laughs and gently kisses his bruised lips. "I love you, Draco Malfoy. And I admire you. And that will never change."

Draco feels himself melting into her kiss, and doesn't fight it. Astoria is the constant amidst the steady whirlwind of change in his world. She doesn't judge him, doesn't hate him, but instead, she makes him a better person.

And he's grateful. Because maybe the discrimination will always be there for him, but at least he won't have to face it alone.


End file.
